Why So Serious?
by Hermione Vader
Summary: Supernatural/The Dark Knight crossover. Dean and Sam were separated while investigating murders in Gotham. Sam interrogates the Joker about Dean's whereabouts. The Joker may or may not comply.


**Why So Serious?**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own _Supernatural_ or _The Dark Knight_. I just borrow the characters from time to time.

**A/N:** This is AU for Season 3 of _Supernatural_ and takes place after _The Dark Knight_ for Nolanverse Batman.

* * *

"Where is Dean?" Sam asked nervously. Sweat trickled down his neck, where his hair was already on standing on end. This wasn't just another job; this wasn't just another monster. This was worse than those cannibal hillbillies back in Oregon or wherever it was. This clown was _way_ more twisted than that.

"Do you really wanna know?" the clown asked, licking the scars that extended his twisted smile.

"Yes." Sam looked him straight in the eye, fighting every urge to scream.

"No, you don't." The clown circled him as he spoke. "You see, people never _really_ want to know. They'd rather believe that everything's okay--that the good guys always win, the damsel always gets her knight, and that everyone lives happily ever after. You and I know that's not true, don't we, Sammy?"

"It's Sam," he snapped through gritted teeth. "You didn't answer the question."

"Well, let's see: maybe Dean ran scared. Maybe he's lying face down in a ditch. Or maybe he finally started smiling." He licked those scars again.

Sam grabbed the clown by his shirtfront and slammed him against the wall. "Where's my brother, you son of a bitch?!"

"Ooh, now we're getting somewhere." He pulled knife out of his pocket and placed it between Sam's lips. Sam froze, but he didn't loosen his grip. "Wanna know how I got these scars? I had an older brother once, too. He was my hero; I worshipped him. We started traveling around robbing banks together; I held 'em up and he drove the getaway car. We split the money fifty-fifty. Then one day, we pull a really big heist--about two million, at least. Later, I ask for my share and he says no. So I ask him again and he says no. So I punch him--pretty sure I've broken his nose, too; then he grabs me and pushes me to the ground. So I'm lying there with my big brother on top of me when he pulls out his switchblade puts it in my mouth, like so." He pressed the blade against the left corner of Sam's mouth and wiggled it a bit. Sam could feel blood trickle onto his gums. "And then he carves into my cheek. Then he does it to the other one. Then he got up and drove off. And now look at me!" The clown took the knife out of Sam's mouth, grabbed both of his arms, and slammed Sam against the wall. With one hand, he pointed at his painted, mutilated face. "This is his handiwork! How do you know your beloved Dean won't do the same?"

Sam couldn't take it anymore. His hand snapped out and punched the clown in the nose--and he hoped he broke it. Blood snaked from the clown's nose and blended with his sadistic smile. Sam kicked the crazed clown--again and again and again. He banged that lunatic's head into 

the wall. The white makeup on his forehead smeared and small portions began to rub off with each slam. And the clown just laughed. That laugh was most inhuman thing he'd ever heard--it was the scream of a mangled mind; it was its laugh and its cry, too. Sam hit him again--more laughing. The clown never fought back; it was almost like he wanted Sam to beat him.

"You see, Sammy, you should be glad he's gone. He would've just left you anyway. And he went screaming and begging for his own life, telling me to take you instead, but we both know he deserved what he got, now don't we?" Sam threw him to the ground with a strength he didn't know he had. Then he grabbed the knife from the clown's hand, held it to his throat and--

"Sammy, don't!" It was a voice Sam didn't expect to hear again. He looked back: there was Dean, standing battered and bruised next to Batman. "It's not worth it, Sammy."

"Yes, it is, Sammy," the clown countered, those frighteningly dark eyes boring to Sam's skull. "Finish me."

"It's what he wants. You know that," Batman told him.

"He's _my_ brother," Dean snapped. "Let me talk to him."

"I think that I might be a little more--"

"A little more what? _What?_ Knowledgeable, qualified, understanding? You may know this city like the back of your hand, and I wouldn't be here if you hadn't helped, but you do _not_ know my brother, rich boy." Dean gave Batman a death glare.

"What did you call me?" Batman returned the glare as he turned to face Dean directly.

"That's what you are, Richie Rich. How else would you get that suit?"

"Or that car?" The Joker added.

"Thank you," Dean agreed. "What makes you so above it all that you can just swoop in and save the day?"

"He thinks he's a hero," the Joker hissed.

"You're no hero," Dean sneered at Batman, whose rage was almost visible under his mask. "You're a spoiled brat who thinks he can play God. You use your money to get all the toys you need--no, the toys you _want_--so you can run around and pretend you're heroic. A hero is someone who helps people when they _don't_ have the money and barely have the strength. The risk everything every day without any fame or glory or copycats. That's what my father taught me, and you are none of those things."

"The Joker is just goading you into--" Batman began before Dean cut him off again.

"Let him goad all he wants. Sure, he's a creepy-ass psycho killer, but that doesn't make him wrong, at least, not this time."

"Well, finally, someone appreciates me," the Joker remarked.

"Hey, I never said that," Dean said loudly. "You're still a freak of nature. What do you think, Sam?"

"I think they're both wrong," Sam said bluntly. "I agree that Batman's an ass for thinking an armored suit and fancy gadgets make you qualified to save people. You don't need money for that--our dad used the money in our college funds to buy guns, and think of all the people he saved. But he means well. The Joker's just nuts--not everyone is as self-serving as he thinks."

"Uh, boys? We're both still in the room," the Joker quipped.

"Shut up!" both Winchesters snapped.

"Joker, you just don't get it. It's about what you get; it's about what you give." Sam had already dropped the knife.

"Let's get the hell out of here, Sammy," Dean said, smiling at his younger brother.

"Yeah, these people are crazy."

Sam stood up and for the first time in a long time, he and Dean both hugged. Then they walked out of the room, leaving a puzzled Batman and a disappointed Joker in their wake.

"Hey, Dean, I liked your little speech about heroism back there. But you got to admit it was pretty cheesy."

"Speak for yourself. 'But he means well.' How the hell do you know?"

"I don't. I just wanted to shut you and that clown up. So where to now?"

"I don't know…How about Metropolis? I wanna see Superman's tights up close."

"I'm sure you do."

* * *

**A/N:** Well, that certainly was interesting. Review if you'd like.


End file.
